The No-Touching Zone

Dean climbed on top of Castiel, straddling him. He had stripped Castiel's boxers away and now they were pressed up against one another, skin on skin. Castiel could feel Dean's longing for him, his heat burning into his lower back. He could feel Dean taking deep, labored breaths, his shaky hands gripping the angel's sides, unsure of the next move.

Just then, Dean heard Castiel speak in Enochian again, this time moaning the words, almost begging Dean. You may.

His mind struggled to make sense of what he saw. His strong, lean, beautiful friend lay prone before him, breath coming quick and shallow. His skin glowed softly in time with Dean's unconscious pelvic movements. His wings, oh God his wings , were laid out before him, pulsing and swirling like the Northern Lights as viewed from some lonely iceberg far out on a frozen sea.

Dean shook his head and shuddered, and then slowly, so slowly, began to run his hands up the center of Castiel's back toward where the wings met his shoulders. He spotted the small, black feathers he has so delicately grazed before to such great effect and decided to start there. The closer he got, the more Castiel's wings quivered. He massaged the skin and muscles around the junction, almost but not quite coming in contact with the feathers. He could feel his angel's hips grinding down onto the mattress, bucking him forward, and then suddenly he was there, strong fingers sliding through the silky feathers, static racing up his arms and making his arm hair stand on end. Instant goosebumps.

"Ohhh," moaned Castiel into the pillow, and Dean could feel the muscles of his wings contract under his touch. Castiel's low tones reverberated through Dean's body, coalescing in his groin, filling him with a deep yearning for something. For what? This was all so completely new, so utterly baffling, so wonderfully terrifying.

Dean continued, smoothing his hands over the short feathers along the tops of Castiel's wings, skin prickling with a million tiny shocks of pleasure. The stimulation was almost too much for Dean. He had to keep taking his hands away to catch his breath. Each time, Castiel moaned at the lack of his touch, causing more heat and desire to build in Dean's pelvis.

Dean took a deep breath and plunged his fingers deep into the longer, denser feathers of the mid-wing. He raked his fingers through them and as he did he saw the rainbow colors swirl and pulse, and Castiel's glow became brighter, brighter, almost blinding. Castiel bucked his hips wildly and shouted something into his pillow Dean couldn't understand, but somehow did. More Enochian. His voice sounded through every brick and board, even vibrating the air in Dean's lungs and reaching up to the stars in the sky. One word, one intent. LOVE .

Castiel never thought anything could feel like this. His whole body vibrated and pulsed under Dean's careful touch. He wept into the pillow, uncontrollably. He felt emotions he couldn't name, that didn't have names. Gratitude mixed with lust. Consequence mixed with providence. Loving and self loathing, war and peace, hunger and utter satisfaction. He was anxious, felt on the brink of something terrible and wonderful. He felt on the verge of completely disintegrating, blowing apart. His breath hitched in his throat.

Dean felt emboldened, knowing he was doing well. Pleasure rolled in like the storm, crackling static now arching into him like purple lightning. He was hit with the realization that this, this encounter, this was making love. He was making love to his angel, his gorgeous wings would be Dean's undoing.

He felt the burning in his loins reaching an unbearable crescendo and fell forward onto Castiel, his chest pressing to his angel's back. He dug his face into the space between where the wings met and began passionately kissing and biting, while simultaneously running his fingers through the long, strong, broad feathers of Castiel's lower wings. The effect was near instantaneous. Castiel began to glow like the sun, and his wings began to flash and crackle, blinking in and out of their material plane. Dean could feel Castiel contort underneath him and he could hear him hiss, then bellow one word, "NOOOO!"

With a flash, Dean suddenly found himself standing in the corner of the room, dazed and confused, filled to the brim with lust. Before him stood Castiel, but something was different. He was glowing soft white, but not like before. He looked as if his body was not emitting a glow, but was a glow, features softened, small, wispy curls of light trailing off as he moved. He was nude and wingless, but then Dean looked down and realized he was as well, and seemingly composed of the same wispy whiteness as Castiel.

He took a step forward to wrap Castiel up in his arms, but to his horror he put his arm right through his friend's shoulder like he wasn't there at all.

"C-cas?" Dean stammered, completely discombobulated, "what is happening?"

Castiel frowned with his sad, blue eyes, stepped aside, and gestured to the bed.

Dean blinked several times. It took a few moments to understand what he was seeing. He had to squint because the light was so bright, but once his eyes had adjusted, he saw them. There on the bed was Castiel, face down, writhing in exquisite pleasure, with Dean pressed against him, two fistfuls of feathers and a face full of hunger, purple lighting discharging off in every direction. Frozen in time.

"Sonofabitch," was all Dean could muster.

Castiel moved to stand next to him. "Indeed."

"Cas, I don't understand," started Dean. "What the hell are we looking at?"

Castiel replied with his flat, gravelly voice, "We are looking at us."

"Then… what are we?" Asked Dean, gesturing to the two of them talking.

"We are also us."
Dean let his head drop back in frustration. "C'mon, Cas! You gotta give me more than that!"

"Dean, I have transported our conscious minds to the Astral Plane."
"You did what to the what?"

"I am sorry for not warning you, there was not time."

Dean turned towards Castiel, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "Okay, but WHY? I mean, I was kinda enjoying that, weren't you?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't we, uh, get back to work?"

"Dean, that would be unwise."

"C'mon, Cas! I'm getting blue balls over here!"

Castiel looked Dean up and down and then said flatly, with a slight head tilt and the shyest hint of a smile, "they appear normal to me."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose and took on the aspect of a small child who was just told that no, there wasn't going to be any ice cream after dinner.

"Dean, I am sorry, but I was afraid. Of losing control."

"Isn't that the whole point, Cas?"
"You misunderstand me. I could feel my corporeal form and incorporeal form blinking in and out of this plane. I was losing control over how much you could see or not see. I was about to…" he trailed off.

"Explode?" Dean finished his sentence.

"Precisely. I was afraid I was going to hurt you, blind you, kill you. I have never done this before, you see, and I do not know the correct protocol. This was the only thing I could think of to do."

"Can you put us back?" asked Dean, trying to hide the edge of panic creeping into his voice.

"Yes, but I do not know what will happen next."

"Well, now that we've talked about it, can't we just… calm down?"

"Dean, this whole conversation is just a mere thought, less than a thought, going through our heads right now. I do not know if we will be able to stay calm and problem-solve when we go back in."

"I dunno, man, we can't just stay here in the No-Touching Zone forever."

Castiel frowned, then walked over to the two men in the bed. He leaned down and pointed directly at the blissed out face of frozen Castiel and growled, "does this look like the face of a man capable of making sound life choices?"

Dean didn't say anything for a moment, then replied, "well, you got us here. I think you could get us out. I believe in you, Cas."

Castiel spoke softly, voice tinged with self doubt, "You have to remember to close your eyes, Dean. And cover your ears."

"Cas, I don't believe you'd ever hurt me."

Castiel pressed his lips together and sighed. He reached up to touch Dean's face but stopped short, remembering their incorporeality. "I do not know what will happen."

Dean took a step toward his angel to meet his hand and just imagining his touch helped to soothe him. "I trust you."

Castiel nodded, and then suddenly Dean was slammed back into the bed atop a writhing Castiel, surrounded by lightning and static and a blinding whiteness that swallowed the room. Pleasure throbbed throughout his body, overcoming him, overwhelming him, and then suddenly he remembered. He remembered his conversation with Castiel, about his fears of hurting Dean. Dean knew what to do. He squeezed his eyes closed and shouted over the roaring light and Castiel's angelic moaning. He shouted in Enochian, one word he'd known innately from before. LOVE .

An explosion rocked the room, and suddenly Dean was sealed in a frozen whiteness. He could feel… nothing. But also everything. It was as if all of his senses had combined to form one new sense far greater than the sum of its parts. Castiel was there with him, he could tell, but he could also feel the brick walls, the dusty floor, the air outside, and the coursing of blood in the hearts of everyone he'd ever met, ever would meet. He could feel the passing of time, the breaking of waves. He could hear silence like it was sound. He suddenly knew all the names for all the colors that made up Cas' wings.

And then just as suddenly, it was gone. Reality came crashing back down around him. He lay atop Castiel on his bed in his room, awash with endorphins, gasping and slick with sweat. Castiel panted underneath him, unruly hair matted with exertion, grateful smile on his face. His wings were gone, but he was glorious to behold all the same. Dean carefully rolled off of his angel and pressed himself up next to him, wrapping his arm tightly around Castiel's chest. He gently brushed his fingertips over the muscles of his abdomen, causing Castiel to shiver. Castiel turned his head back toward Dean and then shakily pointed to the ceiling with a wicked grin. Dean looked up and saw what Castiel had been smiling at. There on the ceiling was a large, black burn, the silhouette of the torsos of two men, two huge wings spreading out from either side.